“Come in the living room. Come see what I picked up for you when I got in on Sunday.”
He pulls me further into the suite—past the kitchen and empty dining room and into the living room where shopping bags sit against the windows I used to stare out of. There’s Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Van Cleef & Arpels, and the boss of all bosses in WAG world—Hermès. The vibrant orange box makes my palms sweat.
“We need to talk, AJ,” I murmur as he lets my arm go.
“If it’s about that shit for your uncle’s gym, I told Blake to write the check.” He shrugs, scooping up his glass of tequila from the maplewood coffee table. “What was it he needed—fans or something? I don’t fuckin know. I just forwarded the texts to Blake. He said he’d figure it out and get them delivered.”
He falls into the recliner next to the window and sighs.
“It was an AC unit.”
“Yeah—that.” He takes a sip of his drink. “How is he, by the way? I’ve been wanting to get back to him, but Blake said it’s best if I didn’t. He’s been texting me these crazy motivational quotesevery week since the Buffalo game. You know he’s always rooting for us.”
My stomach turns again.
“Why are you way over there?” He pats his leg. “C’mon.”
Vomit bubbles up my throat just like it did when I came face to face with Blake. It’s like my body is rejecting anything associated with my old life.
“Grab your stuff and come here. I set a record this time. I dropped eighty thousand in Hermès.Eighty.”
“Eighty thousand, huh? What’d you do that for?”
“Why else did I buy you all the other shit you have? Chanel and Louis always make you feel better. It makesusbetter. I’m fixing us like I always do. You know how much my accountant says I’ve spent on you since we’ve been together?”
I shake my head.
“At least a million. Who else in your life has spent that much on you?”
My lips tremble.
“Who, Lovie?”
“No one.”
“Exactly. So you can’t stand here and tell me I don’t love your fuckin ass. I’ll buy you the moon and stars.”
“I…I don’t want the moon and stars.”
“Then what the fuck do you want? Huh? You want me to sell the penthouse and move us to Jersey to be closer to my parents? You wanna spend more time with the other Knights WAGs? You…you want your aunt to come spend a few weeks with you in the city? How do I get you home? I told Blake that’s what we need to be focusing on. He needs to figure out how to get my fiancée back home with me—not a weak-ass NDA. We told the world we were getting married, so we need to do it. My dad’s boss is like the biggest Knights fan ever, and he already said he’s coming to our wedding, and we haven’t even picked a date yet.”
He swirls his glass around and takes another swig. That familiar urge revs up in my body.
“But Blake keeps going on about this stupid shelter in Manhattan and some chick you talked to there. I told him sometimes you overreact when you’re mad at me, but there’s no way you’d tell some random bitch that I…”
His voice drifts off, and he looks up at me.
“That you what?”
“There’s no way you’d tell her how hard I love you, whether she bought you a plane ticket or not. Doyouknow how hard I love you?”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “You love me so much that it makes you wanna kill me sometimes. That’s what you said that New Year’s Eve. You remember that? You said you hate that other men can see me.”
“Because they shouldn’t be able to see what’s mine. You’re mine.Iownyou.” He bites his lip and his nostrils flare. “Did you tell him that?”
My stomach drops to my feet. “Tell who?”
“Rich. That’s what Blake said his name was. He said your uncle said you got caught up with some ‘neighborhood trash.’ What’d he mean by that?”
